by Rita Lakin
I’ll never be able to fall asleep now. But who cares?
I smile. Gladdy Gold is back on track.
43
Breakfast at Heavenly’s
The ship is fairly deserted by now. Everyone’s gone sightseeing in St. Thomas, though the sky outside seems to be threatening rain. We’re practically alone in the dining room. The Sicilianos. Amy Larkin. Me and my girls. Only Sophie and Bella are scarfing down goodies from the wonderful spread in front of us. Ida still eats carefully. Evvie nibbles. But Angelina, Amy, and Elio aren’t interested in food; they only want to know why I called them together so early this morning. None of them look like they slept much last night, either.
I’m drinking too much coffee, trying to keep myself alert after my own sleepless night.
“When should we go to the captain?” Elio asks.
“Maybe after this,” I say.
I’ve already filled them in on what Evvie and I discussed last night. Ida is still incredulous that we actually figured it out by watching Strangers on a Train.
“Bob Martinson,” Amy murmurs. “Now it comes back to me. It was his voice I heard behind me before I fell. He pushed me.”
Angelina and Elio are stunned. Jo’s husband is on this ship!
Elio says angrily, “If he’s here, I’ll find him.”
Evvie says, “I already checked the entire passenger list. He isn’t on it.”
“Maybe he’s a waiter,” Bella says, looking furtively at the staff now setting up for the first lunch seating.
“I doubt it,” says Ida. “He wouldn’t take a chance on being spotted by Amy. And if he knew Angelina and Elio were on board, he’d be twice as cautious.”
“A sailor,” Ida suggests. “No, forget it, that’s too complicated. He couldn’t just get on board whatever ship he wanted.”
I say it. “An entertainer. Using a stage name.”
“The MC?” Ida asks. “He was one of the last guys on board.”
Angelina says in a strangled voice, “Jo’s husband, Bob, taught Latin dancing.”
“You mean like the cha-cha?” Bella says timidly.
Now it hits. “Roberto?” moans Sophie. “Our gorgeous Roberto?”
Sophie and Bella look at one another in despair.
“How dumb we didn’t get it right away,” Evvie says, smacking at her head. “We were so impressed with his helpfulness, we never paid attention to the fact that he was the last man back at the ship.”
“And he didn’t want to go on the search with us, but Sophie and Bella forced his hand.” Ida sips at her now-cold coffee.
“But he must have figured that way he could make sure Amy was dead. I’ll bet when he saw that she was still alive, he panicked. No wonder he volunteered to run for help. He wanted to get away. He didn’t want Amy to see him,” I say.
Elio is on his feet. “Where is that slimeball’s classroom? Let me at him.”
“Wait,” I tell him. “We can’t do anything until we talk to the captain. He’s dangerous. We don’t want anyone hurt.” I look at Amy.
“You had a question?” Amy tears up little bits of her blueberry muffin. She’s picking at her food but not eating.
“I do. Something must have happened before you went on that trip or during. Something that you’ve forgotten?”
“I can’t imagine what.”
“Think, Amy,” Evvie prods her.
The waiter comes by carrying coffeepots. Elio waves him away.
“The only thing that comes to mind is that I almost didn’t go on the first cruise at all. But that can’t mean anything.”
“Why not?” Sophie can’t stand the suspense. She wants to move this along.
“My dog died. My beloved Poopsie.”
“Poopsie?” says Bella, laughing.
Sophie nudges her, laughing along with her.
“I loved that dog! She was my angel. I had her for fifteen years. Nobody loved me more than that doggie did!”
Bella and Sophie quickly wipe the smiles off their faces.
“Harry had no sympathy at all. He, who worked with animals, said I was being a sentimental fool. Besides, he was a cheapskate. With my money. We’d already paid for the cruise so we should go. I was so angry at him.”
Sophie and Bella now murmur sympathetic sounds.
“That’s all I could think of. What could I do to honor Poopsie’s special memory? So I decided to leave the majority of my money to the SPCA, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. I made up my mind to change my will.”
She sobs quietly into her napkin. “Poopsie…Poopsie…”
“Oh, my God,” I say. Slowly some of the others are getting it, too. “You didn’t happen to take that will along with you on the ship, by any chance?”
“Of course I did. I needed to write it all up the right way…” She breaks off. “Oh, no.”
“Harry found it,” I say.
Evvie is right with me. “And told the other guys.”
“No, it can’t be…” Her eyes are wide with fright.
“Lot of booze, drugs,” I continue. “The guys were worried. More than worried. Suddenly this was a warning. A threat to their security. And they decided if one wife didn’t keep to her part of the bargain, would the other men be safe? What whim might cause any of their wives to change their wills?”
This time Ida picks up the ball. “They weren’t going to take any more chances. They were going to collect all their money now.”
“And there’s your motive,” Elio announces.
Everyone stares at Amy. She leaps up, overturning her chair. Her eyes are wild and frenzied. “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t thinking…”
She starts to back away. “I didn’t think how Harry…I was in mourning, for God’s sakes!”
She’s running now. “I killed them! They all died because of me!”
She races out of the room. Everyone is speechless.
Except for Bella. Mulling over the meaning of it all. “It’s all Poopsie’s doing. Getting revenge for that stupid name.”
44
Cha-Cha-Cha
We race after Amy down the hallway. But there is no consoling her. We all try. She is in a state of hysteria, flailing her arms, hitting her body against the wall. She is taking the blame and holding it tightly to her being.
It’s heartbreaking to see her this way. I feel my own sense of guilt for having brought her to this state.
Finally Angelina suggests we take her to the infirmary. There she is given a sedative.
We leave her under a nurse’s care with the warning that no one is allowed in except us.
I’m at the door when, in a quivering voice, Amy calls my name.
I turn and look at her. Her face is pale. Her hands are shaking.
“God forgive me,” she says, and turns her face to the wall.
On the way back to our stateroom I pick up a wall phone. I call the captain and tell him I must see him at once. It’s a matter of life and death.
“Yes, well, that’s not possible right now,” he says. “Don’t you feel the ship rocking? We have a storm situation brewing, Mrs. Gold.”
“You have to batten down the hatches and all that stuff,” I say.
“Precisely. All that stuff.”
He’s about to hang up. “But when?” I demand to know.
“All right. Come up at five. The conference room, upper deck. By then we’ll be well out to sea. If I have to change our appointment I will call you.”
Before he can hang up again, I tell him, “I’m bringing seven people, maybe eight, so be prepared.”
“Seven? Why not twenty-five? Shall I serve cocktails?”
Boy, does he know how to do sarcasm. I thought a captain needed people skills. “That won’t be necessary, sir.”
“Why am I not surprised at anything you say or do, Mrs. Gold?” is his droll retort. “Is it all right if I hang up now so I can save the ship from sinking?”
“Yes, sir,” I say smartly.
Now I look at Bella and Sophie. “What is ‘Roberto’ teaching today after everyone gets back from touring?” I ask the totally demoralized duo.
“Salsa,” they answer in tandem.
“And we have a lesson at four,” says Bella, “which, of course, we’re not keeping.”
“Maybe you should,” I say. “Look, you’ll have just enough time before we’re due at the captain’s. It’s better than just waiting and pacing.”
Sophie and Bella cling to one another.
“No, you can’t make me go.” Bella is actually stamping her foot.
“I’d faint. I’d stutter. I couldn’t look him in the eye.” Sophie is equally adamant.
Evvie gets into it. “You have to. Robert already knows the two of you. He’ll believe you if you tell him that all Amy remembers is that she tripped and fell.”
“I’m too scared. I’ll start to cry,” Bella adds.
“If you don’t show up for that lesson, he’ll get suspicious,” I say. “Listen, I’m not sure we’re right to do this. Either way is a risk.”
Ida, who is sprawled across all three of our mattresses, eating macadamia nuts, now scrambles into a sitting position. “What a pair of wusses! I’ll go. I can look that viper right in the eye and lie through my teeth.”
“You’re hired,” I say.
Bella is curious. “Ida, you know how to dance?”
“I got feet, don’t I? So I’ll dance.”
“I’d go,” says Evvie, “but I don’t want to leave Amy alone for too long.”
“What are we, chopped liver?” Sophie says, annoyed. “Can’t we watch her?”
“We’ll all three stay with her in the infirmary, together,” says Evvie.
“All right,” Sophie answers, only slightly mollified.
We’d left Angelina and Elio in their stateroom. I’m sure they needed to be alone after our shattering meeting. What a terrible shock for her to know her cousin had been murdered. By her own husband, trading her off to be killed by another man. Elio, to my surprise, is turning out to be some mensch, gentle with Angelina and very grateful to us.
Even though I’d seen Bob Martinson’s photo at Gossip, and seen him at the Boca funeral, I didn’t recognize him on the dock. The sombrero was distracting. Maybe on purpose. But then again, at that time I wasn’t looking for Bob. I only saw “Roberto.”
“But Angelina said Bob Martinson is blond with green eyes,” says Bella, confused. “Roberto has black hair and brown eyes.”
Sophie looks at her balefully. “Haven’t you ever heard of hair dye?” She pats down her Wild Strawberry Blonde coif. “And what about contact lenses?”
Meanwhile we are noshing on whatever goodies we have stashed in our room, since some of us hardly ate breakfast and we all missed lunch. I watch the clock. The dance class will start in about twenty minutes.
What a day so far! I desperately need a nap, but I’m too revved up to sleep. I guess I’m going out dancing.
We join five eager women of indeterminate age waiting for Roberto to arrive at the dance studio to give his lesson. The room is smaller than I expected, but plush. One whole wall is floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
Ida and I have gussied up a bit, with flared skirts and colorful blouses. Since none of us wears high heels anymore, except for impractical Sophie, we wear low-heeled sandals. Ida whispers good luck to me. I suggest we imitate Bella and Sophie and try to gush. We both giggle at that.
Roberto enters wearing tight black pants, a frilly white shirt, and soft black leather dancing shoes. His dyed black hair gleams. He smiles that radiant smile at all of us. I might gush after all. I look more closely at him now. Now I can see through the disguise. Now I see Bob.
He addresses the other women by name. Regulars. He recognizes us and there is the tiniest of flickering in those fake brown eyes.
I speak up quickly. “You remember us, Roberto. We all jumped ship together.” I manage a large phony smile.
“How could I forget?” He looks deep into my eyes. I pray I won’t flinch.
Ida speaks up right on cue. She tosses a friendly wave at him. “We never had a chance to thank you for helping us save Mrs. Larkin.”
“And how is …Mrs. Larkin?” Now Ida gets the questioning look in the eye. She doesn’t flinch, either. I congratulate him silently on how well he pretends not to know Amy’s name.
Ida remembers her speech. “She’s shaken, but all right. Poor thing forgot to take her medicine that morning. She got dizzy and fell.”
I can see him pause, waiting to be sure we aren’t lying, and then he relaxes.
If he really knew what we know now, it would shake that arrogance right out of him.
“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. Oh, and by the way, where are the delightful Miss Sophie and Miss Bella?”
I’m just about to speak, but Ida does an impromptu on me. “Food poisoning,” she blurts. “They both had the lobster thermidor for lunch.” She shakes her head sadly. “Spoiled fish.”
I send her a look. I guess she didn’t think “tired” was a good enough excuse.
Roberto whirls around gracefully, his frilly shirt fluttering as he does. “Time to salsa!” He goes to the small CD player and turns it on, loud. Immediately the other women are starting to gyrate to the catchy Latin beat. I imitate them and Ida imitates me.
“But first, costumes. To get into the Latin mood.” He points to a large carton on a table.
“Oh, my,” I say, worried. Is he going to dress us up like Carmen Miranda with bananas on our heads?
The regulars hurry over and gleefully pull out an assortment of items of riotous colors. I settle for a large fringed red shawl that reminds me of what people used to put on top of their pianos. I tie it around my waist. Ida pulls out some kind of long skirt thing with a lot of added extra layers of brightly colored zigzaggy material and pulls it on over her own skirt. She actually winks at me. This is an Ida I don’t recognize.
Roberto claps his hands at us. “OK, ladies, get in a line and try to follow what I do.”
He turns his back on us and faces the full-length mirror. And we get to stare at the back of him. I have to admit, that is one sexy tush he has undulating at us.
The music is very fast and hot. And so is Roberto.
“Step forward with the right leg and bring it back to center. Step forward with the left and do the same. Keep repeating. Quick, quick, slow, quick, quick, slow.”
I watch him watching us. Is he mocking us? He smiles widely at me. I smile back just as wide. It makes my teeth ache.
“Ladies, now add those hips to it, let those hips rip.”
I’m ripping as fast as I can, but I can’t keep up with him. I look toward Ida. She is biting her lip, apparently concentrating hard on following.
“Now let’s try it to the side. Step to the right. One-two-three-hold, now step to the left and one-two-three-hold, now cross over and do it again.”
I’m tripping over my feet. I haven’t a clue what to do or where to do it.
This seems to go on endlessly. Whatever he’s doing, I’m not. Finally, thankfully, he stops.
The women are all puffing. That was a workout.
“Very good,” says Roberto. “Now I need a volunteer. After all, this is the second most important thing you’ll ever do with a partner.” He smirks, letting us guess what the first might be. Ha-ha.
He walks directly to Ida and me. He grins at me and I grin back. I feel like my face will crack from all this smiling and grinning.
I slouch like a little kid in class who doesn’t know the answers and doesn’t want to be called on.
He reaches out for Ida’s hand.
And there they go, our Ida quick-quick-slowing with him every step of the way. Ida, gracefully letting her swirly skirt swirl.
Ida, dipping and ben
ding when he dips and bends. Her head snapping back when he snaps. I wish I had a camera. She’s adorable. Who knew?
We’re about to leave, when Roberto calls me back. He’d like to give me a few personal pointers. Ida and I look at one another. I shrug. She nods and leaves with the other women.
Roberto puts on another tape. This is a slow rumba. He pulls me to him.
“I’m really not good at this,” I say.
“Don’t worry. I’ll lead you.”
And he is a very good leader.
He pulls me even tighter to him. This is not good. His aftershave is overwhelming. It’s making me want to sneeze. Why did I let Ida leave?
He whispers. His mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel his breath, and I shiver. “I’ve been watching you, Mrs. Gold. You are a very smart lady.”
“Thanks.” I am desperately trying to create space between our two bodies, listen to what he is saying and hear what he really means, and think fast, all at the same time.
“But it’s not a good idea to get involved in other people’s business.” His fingers dig a little too deeply into my neck as his other arm tightens even more around my lower back. I am feeling body parts I haven’t felt in a very long time. His. Not mine.
I giggle nervously. “My mother used to tell me the same thing.” He twirls me around. I nearly fall on him as he spins me back. “But I never listened.”
“Listen now. A ship can be a dangerous place for an elderly woman like yourself. Accidents can happen. A slippery deck. A broken railing. Steep metal steps.”
Oh, how I’m dying to tell him, he doesn’t need to kill Amy or even me anymore. The jig’s up.
Enough. Time for an accident of my own. I “accidentally” step hard on his right foot and, at the same time, my allergy to his aftershave makes me sneeze hard, right into his face.
“Clumsy…” He pulls away, wiping his face in disgust.
I move to the door, fast. “I can’t agree with you more. An old person better be careful. Thanks for the lesson.”
And I am running down the hallway. I don’t know if I’m running for my life or for my shower. For a very cold shower.
